


Ticking Bombs

by ShrugAbug



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Astral Plane - Freeform, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Voltron Lions - Freeform, galra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrugAbug/pseuds/ShrugAbug
Summary: "You want to steal one of Voltron's Lions?" Nyma asked, disbelief coating her voice in a bright glaze.Lance glared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "Not steal!" he hissed out, voice low as his eyes wandered around their surroundings. "Take a few pictures. Get some information. See how hard it would be to move it and maybe move it."Nyma blinked at him, once, twice. "Yeah, okay. Just don't die.""And leave you behind? Who do you think I am?"---In The Urithu Galaxy, on one of the trading planets called Crixon, Lance flourished. He had been raised in the slums here, a human far from home. Growing up surrounded by trading and deceit, he learned how to take it all in and make it his. And when rumors of Legendary Defenders circulated around the galaxy like flies attracted to trash? His web caught them.With a growing need to take Zarkon down, help his friends, and prove that he can totally be a paladin, thanks, Lance thrives in the growing chaos. After all, he's Blue. Not the Blue Paladin, he's Blue, the trader who came from nothing on a planet where you're not supposed to leave your quo.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance was a smart boy, but not in the way that it counted. 

He could read a crowd like no-one’s business, understanding slouches, hands, and eyes. He could understand who was someone he wanted on his side, from the way their words fell out of their mouth, and the way their hands gripped objects like they were weapons to be used. Lance was smart. But he was bad at math, and letters on pages switched and turned backwards. 

And in Crixon, it was good to be smart where it counted. Where you could find the missing variable with one look, where you could read a passage with a quick scan, a mere twist of your eye and it was ingrained in your memory. But he couldn’t. So, like any good street rat, he’d adjusted. Lance watched, learned, mimicked, failed, and did it again. And again. He squatted in houses, fought for his own survival. The blue-eyed boy made a name for himself, made it so that you didn’t have to be school smart, you just had to be smart in the ways that guarantee your survival. After a while, after years of networking, he had earned himself the name of Blue. It was a color, but so many people around the universe knew what it meant, knew who he was. Over time, it became more than a color. 

It became a title, a name granted to someone hidden on a trading hub. Crixon.

Crixon had seven sectors. One of them was radioactive, a wasteland that was uninhabitable. This one doesn’t matter. Three of them were dangerous, strewn together with the strings of poverty and clasped with violence and anger, the underbellies. These were : Sector 5, Gona, Sector 2, Cheyann, Sector 6, Jino. Truthfully, only Gona is the important Sector, as it is the worst and best one in the danger category. Business was quick, but knives had the possibility of being quicker. The last three were unimportant, with 1, 4, and 7 being the top of the food chain. Most people tended to forget about those. 

But less about the Sectors. Crixon was stranded in the middle of a galaxy, the Urithu (Uru-tu). The Galaxy had around 4 planets, and was a major hub for trading in the Universe. Aliens and lifeforms came from across the sweet expanse of space to look for goods they would not have found anywhere else. Left untouched by the Galra Empire, anything and everything was here. Stalls, markets, the other markets, items and informations switched hands while prices fluctuated at the drop of a coin. 

And Lance flourished in this environment. Even if he wasn’t as smart as his companions (or at least in the way it ‘mattered’), the boy had made his home here. The alien had built his throne from the ground up, starting at rock bottom. 

So he knew when the Paladins of Voltron were down a lion. He knew when they decided to come to Crixon to look for someone, to find information on a rebel who was hiding. His networks whispered from their handheld devices, telling Lance what he needed to know. 

And when the four Paladins had landed on Voltron, Lance had told his closest to watch them. Nyma and Rolo, with their droid Beezer had welcomed them, harboring them. Answering their questions with happy looks, explaining the state of their planet and belts. Promising to help them when it came to finding someone to give them their information. Lance didn’t trust those three, but he kept them closer than anyone else in his networks.

Nyma told him all of the things that was going on with the paladins, through their phones and words, meeting with him in opportune times. So he had scheduled a meeting with the paladins and one of their alteans -were they aware they weren’t the last? It could be a wild card for later on, something Lance could hide up his sleeve in a cheating maneuver-. He had accepted of course, orchestrating it so that the meeting would go in his favor. 

So Lance sat there, in a ratty, torn up chair found on the outskirts of some junker planet. A large cloth mask covering the lower half of his face, black and plain, scratching at his jaw and lips. Cargo pants, a turtleneck under a green and orange jacket. He was waiting, waiting for the meeting, unconsciously drumming his fingers on the wooden desk in front of him. Guns and all of the assortments hung underneath the table, ready for if it all went south. A window behind him, missing it’s glass and standing three stories up in an abandoned building with a fire escape hanging from it. 

He came prepared, ready to put up a firefight and an escape. 

Lance didn’t know what he expected from the Paladins of Voltron as they walked through the door. He expected an Altean along with four aliens he didn’t know the race of yet -none of their pictures had caught them without their helmets off, but he had the generally build and strengths of them memorized. 

What Lance didn’t expect, was them barging into the room in a rainbow of color with the old Princess in front. In some part of his head, he thought they would at least hold a smidge of respect, understanding that he was the only one who would be able to find who they were looking for. They didn’t. Instead, the small green paladin was at the head, a heavy cloak wrapped around their armor. Everyone appeared to have something covering their normal armor, and Lance was surprised they would have thought that far. From the few seconds he had seen them personally, it appeared they weren’t the… brightest spies in the galaxy.

“You’re the person we’re looking for right?” The green paladin asked, voice distinctly female. Lance wouldn’t be bothered by how he couldn’t see her face, hidden behind the darkened screen of the paladin’s helmet. But he had seen her in action, with the small, bright, electric grappling hook. Long-range, and efficient in knocking and tying someone’s legs together. Dangerous, sure, but it was obvious she was still learning how to to use it. 

Lance, staying quiet, nodded slowly, assessing everyone once again. He watched the princess, marvelling at how Alteans were so close yet so different to him. They had the pointed ears and markings, but from what he could tell it was one of the only differences between their races. He had seen Alteans before, but it had always interested him how close yet different they all were. Small galaxy, huh?

Green hesitated, facial features hidden behind their helmet. Within a few seconds, she had removed them, and Lance blinked to look at her facial features. She matched his, which wasn’t quite impossible, but was odd. As far as he had known, Lance had been one of the few of his race in deep space, apart from the few rebel forces he had once met with. Matt, he thought. Matt was one of the only other… humans as he had said in space. 

And this one looked just like him. Minus the scar, the height, the snark. Keeping his face neutral, Lance stared suspiciously at the Matt look alike, unsure if he could trust them. 

“I’m looking for someone,” the shorter, not as light-haired Matt said as a dry response to his sparse nod and icey glare. Lance made a motion with his hand for them to continue, wondering if it was indeed his rebel friend. He knew precisely where the other human was, having kept in contact once the freedom fighter showed him what the Galra had done to their universe. 

That was the thing, actually. The Urithu galaxy hadn’t been involved with the war. Respectively, the Galra and the galaxy had stayed apart, occasionally exchanging information and taxes. But once they had their eyes opened, their string of planets had become safe-havens and rebel bases. But that was all under wraps, of course. It wasn’t too… out there information. 

There was shifting in the back, the red paladin moving around. He was obviously bothered by something- his shoulders were hunched in while his arms were crossed defensively across his chest. Maybe it was the abandoned building? Or the lack of response? The glint of analytical thought that had a permanent in his eyes? Either way, Lance had a feeling he would have to look out for the red paladin. 

Back to the green paladin though. She were staring at him, brows furrowed in a determined way as one side of their mouth pulled down. “Aren’t you going to say something?” She asked in an annoyed tone, worry seeping through the bravado front she coated in their voice.

Lance shrugged, trying not to smirk under his mask. 

“Right…” the smallest paladin trailed off, shoving their glasses up their nose before taking a deep breath. “There’s someone we’re all looking for- he was an escaped Galra prisoner. We heard that you know most of these things. But that might not be true- actually, you know what? That doesn’t matter.”

Lance nodded, shifting slightly, tuning out the small ramble they had on the end. Just like Matt, before he had toughened up into a warrior. Although he did know who they were looking for. “I think I know who you’re talking about,” the tanned alien responded, voice muffled by the cloth wrapped around the lower half of his face. It was getting annoying, and with a few seconds of thought, he pulled it down so his nose and mouth were free. 

Shock registered on the green paladin’s face, and the movement of the others said anything then they were surprised. By his race, maybe? Possibly. Probably. But now that he thought about it, if this paladin was truly related to Matt then this might be his sister he spoke of occasionally. Her name had started with a Kay or something. 

Matt’s sibling let out a breath. “You’re human,” she whispered. Then she shook herself, tawny eyes narrowing onto him in an analytical way. So much like how his eyes hardened, that part of thought that he would have recruited her if she lived on his planet. “I’m asking about someone named Matt. He was a rebel fighter.” 

Lance raised an eyebrow, glad to see that he firmly had the upper hand here. He could exploit that, show it and move it so that they knew they were in the palm of his hand. “Was? You say that like he’s dead,” he said, voice low, almost condescending. He didn’t like being a jerk, truthfully, something Rolo has always had a laugh at once he was done doing whatever Rolo did in that moment. It always made him somewhat sad being rude. As if he had a bigger purpose than being a quiznacker. 

Refocusing, Lance watched the variety of emotions on Kay.. t! Kayti’s face. That was her name right? “You know him?” The small one asked, darting forward and looking at him hopefully. 

Lance got his first real look at her, closer than where she had been before. He was shocked for a moment. She was so… young. There was a brightness in her eyes, he only saw in children. So naive, it seemed. So bright and small. Matt had spoken of her like she was taller than life, strong and impressive. But Kayti was a kid, not a titan. Why was she a Paladin? Did she even get a job description, or had she been dragged into this forcefully?

Lance had been a kid though, when his life had formally decided it was going to be a bad one. But that hadn’t been a good thing. It wouldn’t be a good thing for her either.

Her eyes shut down then, anger sparking in them. “You know him?” she repeated again, voice strong, angry. A child’s reaction to the unknown. “You will help us then,” the kid continued, hand dropping to their side as something materialized in her hand. This situation screamed danger, and Lance pulled himself up as the group behind her moved. In the back of his head though, it whispered that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, turning hostile.

But then the paladin’s moved, and his flight or fight instinct kicked in.

First the large, bold, Yellow paladin moved forward but stopped, while the Black one walked forward and placed a hand on Kayti’s shoulder. Red’s weapon materialized as well, a long blade that he held carefully. With a sense of familiarity. The Altean shifted, her hand raised as Matt’s sister got ready to lunge. 

“Pidge!” the Altean said, voice scolding, and Lance picked up on it. Pidge, huh? An alias. Maybe? 

“Princess, he knows where Matt is!” the youngest spat back, seething under the Black paladin’s grip. There was a feral desperation behind it, pushing her to glare at him as her glasses reflected on small pieces of light they could pick up.

Lance stood behind the desk, pressed against it and ready to grab any weapon from under it and make his escape. 

The room went silent, Kayti’s face mask went back up, and Lance had the feeling they were talking over comms. Rude much? 

Taking a step back, Lance stared at them, long and hard. Reaching into one of his coat pockets, he flipped out a small sensor. It had a button on it they could press if they wanted to talk to him. It also had a tracker on it that he could track, but that wasn’t something they needed to know in the current moment. 

Flipping the communication device from hand to hand, it’s orange screen catching their attention, he looked at Matt’s sister. “Right then, Kayti,” he said, pronouncing the name a little off. Taking a moment, watching the pure shock in the slump of her shoulders and small tilt of her head, he then tossed the bright screen to her. She caught in, thankfully. “You want to meet up again and discuss about your brother, we can. But only you. No one else. That make sense?”

 

There was a silent nod, and Lance had the feeling the masks weren’t coming down any time soon. Pulling the scarf up around his face again, Lance stared at them blankly, then turned and left through the window. Soon, the room was empty, and silent.

Somewhere, on a white castle ship hidden on an abandoned planet by the name of Avalon, the blue lion’s eyes turned yellow. 

\---------

One of the things Lance had always thought to be curious, was how he had met Nyma and Rolo.

That day had been a normal one, but was also a different one. In his city, with it’s messy air, loud noise, flying cars, ships, and stores, Lance had finally gotten his first ship. A good one too, one that could transport him to a different planet and move him from galaxy to galaxy if he just found gas and the occasionally wormhole (wormholes could be created by anyone now, if you were willing to pay enough. But that didn’t mean GAK though, it could be anything, payments). 

His ship was a beauty, a small fighter that could shoot lasers, only carry one person comfortably, and was pieced together from scraps and welding. But it worked, and it could bring him across Crixon in a matter of minutes, so it was good. He named her Veronica. The name had come to him in a dream, and whenever he said it it felt like there was another voice saying it with him. Lance enjoyed it, and had learned the price of telling people about it.

He had been young then, probably around 15 deca-phoebs. Nyma had appeared, with her friend Rolo, looking at him like he was a prize to be won. Smiling at him, Veronica, and everything about him. 

Suffice to say, he lost his ship, but then recruited them to become his partner's, much to their surprise. They went along with it though, eventually recognising that, ‘maybe the kid has a point.’ And they’ve been his closest… not friends, more companions, since. A rocky start, but a beautiful relationship. Hopefully. 

They had met curiously, to be sure. And their relationship had stayed curious as well. With a few kisses shared with Rolo and Nyma, (he decided he liked both of them, content to stay in his like for any and all genders) Lance learned about how Rolo’s planet had been destroyed by the Galra. Then they had found Matt, and life had been perfect for a while. 

They weren’t close close, but they were close enough. And it led to them situated in front of a shop where they sold food and drinks to their customers like any normal shop, in an intense discussion. 

“You want to steal one of Voltron’s Lions?” Nyma asked, disbelief coating her voice in a bright glaze.

Lance glared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "Not steal!" he hissed out, voice low as his eyes wandered around their surroundings. "Take a few pictures. Get some information. See how hard it would be to move it and maybe move it. Then move it.”

Nyma blinked at him, once, twice. "You should probably think this through," she replied, drinking from her beverage as Rolo grunted in agreement from next to her. 

“Yeah, man, I’m all for robbing-”

“It isn’t robbing!”

“Borrowing-”

“It isn’t that either!”

“Who cares? Looking at one of the lions, but there needs to be a plan.”

Nyma nodded sagely, purple eyes staring at him. “You can’t just go in, Blue. This won’t work like those other jobs.”

Lance sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, cargo jacket riding up on his forearm. “I know that.” he exclaimed, pouting as his voice took on a whiny and annoyed tone at the end. “But I’ll be fine. Try out the new cloaking on Veronica.” 

A snort came from Rolo, Beezer chirping next to him, somehow taking on a sarcastic tone. Great, the sentient robot was learning sarcasm. 

Nyma shook her head, eyes closed in annoyance as her hands gripped her cup tighter. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t die,” she snapped at him, obviously understanding she wouldn’t be able to talk common sense into the tan idiot in front of her.

“And leave you alone? Who do you think I am?” 

“Ridiculously stupid.”


	2. Chapter 2

Over the course of the next few quintants, Lance, Nyma, and Rolo came up with a plan as best as they could. Truthfully, it was a pretty damn good plan in Lance’s opinion. 

 

His opinion was usually terrible.

 

Choosing to utilize the cloaking device Matt had added onto  _ Veronica  _ the last time he visited, all of them agreed it would have to be a quick job. Get in, get out, don’t perish. There wouldn’t be any moving, stealing, or touching of the unmanned lion sadly, as his ship was very much smaller than even the tiniest lion. Although if they had gotten away with a heist that large, it would be one to tell the children they didn’t have. Maybe they would get away with something that scale one day.

 

After throwing around a few dirty, absolutely terrible, well-meant words, the three of them had packed their bags. Nyma, Rolo, and Beezer would land on a planet, sending out a distress signal to the paladins. From there it would be easy flying once the ‘Defenders of the Galaxy’ landed. The three of them were familiar faces with the paladins (especially with Kayti), and would hopefully get the group to stall for a few vargas. While this would be going on, Lance would sneak aboard, take some pictures of the unpiloted lion, and get off the ship. 

 

It was a solid plan, and with their sufficient comm system, would work splendidly. It would work absolutely, tremendously well.

 

What he didn’t account for was meeting a friend on his way to his ship. All he could think of as he ran into the small, furry form of Olia was how much he would get paid if he gave the pictures to the Marmorites or Rebellion. Funny he should run into one of their captains in the prelude to his upcoming job, wasn’t it? No. It wasn’t funny at all, actually. Rather annoying in his eyes.

 

Staring, blankly, with his mask wrapped once again the under half of his face, Lance felt a small kick to his shin. 

 

“What are you doing?” The captain had hissed at him, tail cutting through the air furiously behind her. Figured she would already know about their plan. It was probably from Nyma’s constant texting with Matt, gossiping about the current state of their economy or something. Of course, she would drop something about their plan. 

 

“Whattya mean?” Lance replied, playing it off safe, wincing as she kicked him in the shin. Again. What was it with small, bipedal wolves and kicking him in the shin? It hurt, gave him bruises, and annoyed him to no ends when showing off his legs. Truly, couldn’t they leave his legs alone? 

 

“This idea you have is ridiculous!” Olia growled at him. “It’s completely unplanned, you have no idea what you’re doing. None of us have even reached out to Voltron yet, but if you get caught everyone is exposed. The Rebellion, and those who would work beside us.” 

 

Lance knew she didn’t want to namedrop Marmora yet. They weren’t known to the public, and only high-ranking officials against the Galra knew of their existence. Or those who weren’t quite happy with where they situated on a trading planet and wanted to branch out. It’s easy to guess which one Lance was. Even then, she didn’t do an amazing job at hiding his master plan from prying ears. There was probably, many, many spies in the area around them. 

 

“It’s not an idea,” Lance replied, dragging it out, leaning forward to whisper in the shorter person’s ears. “It’s already a plan, and I’ll be going through with it.”

 

“You’re like a pup,” Olia snarled, raising a hand to tug on one side of her aviator’s hat. “Always going through things impulsively and jumping off cliffs and ultimately dying.”

 

What was it with everything thinking he was going to die? Seriously, not a good way to boost his moral guys. Lance wasn’t feeling quite happy with how everyone supported him here. 

 

“While I adore your belief in me,”

 

“Death, Lance. Death.”

 

“ _ Right _ . While I adore how much you believe in me, I can do this. I won’t get caught. I’ll be fine.”

 

Olia stared at him, silent. She was obviously feeling what Nyma had felt not long ago. The overwhelming helplessness that existed in his oncoming typhoon of, ‘you can’t stop me, because I’m already doing the stupid thing.’ You could only go along with the flow and swim with the tide, praying to whatever deity you believed in not to drown. 

 

Lance believed in luck and blood. 

 

“I don’t agree with this,” there was desperation in her voice, and when she saw him open his mouth to counter her she raised her fist. “Lance, somehow you’re important. You can’t throw away yourself, and you can’t throw away some of our best defenders for some… reconnaissance mission.”

 

Lance frowned, staring at her. A hole opened in his heart, and phantom pains clutched his chest and arms. “This isn’t a reconnaissance mission,” he said, steadily, preparing himself to crush her. He wasn’t a good person, no matter what Olia believed. That was that. “It’s for monetary gain. How many pictures that are well done do you have of the lions? Any potential gaps and information?”

 

He paused, staring at her icily. Ignoring the twisting pain in his stomach and small voice whispering in his mind. Lance wasn’t a good person. He wouldn’t sacrifice himself for others, and wouldn’t do anything for anyone but himself. 

 

“You have none. And do you know how much that could earn me?

 

“A lot.”

 

And with an internal sigh, while his mind screamed at him for tearing down one of the people who believed that he could be a good person, Lance strode away. 

 

Olia stood, stoically, in the middle of a bustling crowd with her fists clenched, her ears down, and tail low behind her. In her hand, a communicator was clutched with a message written out. 

 

She pressed send. 

 

\---------

 

Lance entered  _ Veronica _ , subdued and unaware. Clicking open the comms, he turned his lady on and smiled at the familiar rumble of his ship taking to life.

 

“Hey there, girlie,” he purred to the mobile, smirking as over the comms he hear Rolo’s fake barf. Drama-queen.

 

_ “I’ll never understand why you talk to that thing like it’s sentient,” _ his voice crackled over the comms. 

 

“Because she deserves a friend,” Lance replied, steadily. “You ready to lift?”

 

_ “We’re good to go, if you two are done talking about… whatever you were talking about,”  _ Nyma chimed in, her pretty voice steady. A green blip, while a blue one appeared far away. The blue would be the castle ship, and thankfully it hadn’t moved at all. 

 

“Good. You’re up, as well as Voltron. It looks like they’re on Avalon, so why don’t you two land on a close planet? Give em a little show.”

 

_ “Terrible. We’re not hosting a show today. But we’re on our way over now,” _ one of them replied, and their comms sizzled out. Lance took a moment to watch their dot pull away from Crixon, and a sharp grin pulled over his face. In a few vargas, there would be never before seen pictures of the blue lion in his possession. 

 

It worked like a charm, and within a few dobashes a distress signal pinged on his board. Maneuvering  _ Veronica _ , applying the cloak, he watched while in orbit of Avalon as the castle ship took to the red and purple skies.

 

It was surprisingly beautiful, with blue flames pulsing out of it’s white and pristine body in soft waves. Lance whistled in appreciation, pulling  _ Veronica  _ closer to the ship. The Altean was a beauty to be beheld, but right now that wasn’t his concern. Lance would be lying, though, if he said he didn’t snap any pictures of the ancient craft.

 

It wouldn’t be easy to get in, that was for sure. Stay under the radars, not get caught by any sweeping droids. Of course, no one in their small group knew what it would be like in the ship, and they would have a guard pattern. Obviously. Why wouldn’t they? Apparently Kayti was a good hacker and programmer.

 

There was a decompression door that should open if he manages to place an EMP on it correctly. This meant he had to don a space suit, which were normally not to easy to come by cheaply. Lance had gotten his, one of Lotor’s general’s uniforms from a trade he would not talk about anytime soon. Sometimes the tanned boy still dreamt about that space whale. 

 

He knew that it would appear on their radar once the doors opened, but with luck they would see it as a small malfunction and only send someone down to check. If they didn’t, Lance hoped everything would work well. After all, most ships had a vent system, and many old Altean ships didn’t have cameras in their vents. 

 

Lance grinned, putting on one of Lotor’s old and newly recolored (blue, black, white) general’s outfits, and threw himself out into space. Without a weapon. Which, in hindsight,  _ was not a good idea. _

 

“I’m out,” he whispered over the comms, pack blasting him over to the white ship. “On the edge now, deploying EMP soon. Do you think if I smile at the ship it’ll open for me? I could try to charm it.”

 

“ _ Lance, you’re about as charming as a pile of trash. But there’s action now. The red and yellow lions have landed. Beezer will lead you over what you need to do. Remember your training.” _

 

“I have never been trained a day in my life, guys. You know that’s a soft spot.” 

 

His voice had a fake whine in it, but when a silence met him Lance exhaled through his nose. Those two were gone for now, out to meet the paladins who had landed. Alright. He was on his own. 

 

Quickly, he placed the small EMP on the decompressor door. It was a small rectangle, glowing a pale green color on the sides. After a tick or two, the color changed to red and the suction entered. 

 

Lance flew into the ship, body hurtling through space like a leaf being blow dried. Once he made it through the door, the EMP halted, closing the doors behind him. Lance exhaled, weaponless, in a warship, and likely his presence was already known. Time to move, and time to move fast. 

 

Slamming his fist onto the airlock seal, the door to the interior of the ship hissed open. Something hung in the air, a presence that had the hair on the back of his neck pricking up. Lance would have to be on edge. Something, or someone was watching him already. 

 

Maybe Olia was right, and this hadn’t been planned through at all. Well, Lance wouldn’t admit it to her anytime soon. Something about him being prideful and only being able to admit his mistakes to himself and no one else. 

 

Carrying on, Lance took a deep breath and looked around the pristine hallways. A quick ping appeared, a robotic voice spoke over the comms. 

 

“In five steps, take a left and continue on for a long while.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Thanks for telling me the quiznaking measurements, Beez.” Lance hissed to the bland and unemotional voice tone, following the directions. As he rushed to the hanger area, the sarcastic boy looked for any vent entrances or hide away spots. Those would be useful for future references. 

 

As he reached a specific spot, something tugged in his gut. It was alike to what he had felt earlier, a feeling that eyes were watching him. But it was magnified now, a presence that was bearing down on his neck and growling at him to get a move on and  _ find me _ . 

 

Where had that come from?

 

_ Find Me _ , a voice whispered, slithering in with a cool calamity into the back of his head. Lance’s head felt full, a ticking pressure bumping behind, pressing behind his skull with the palms of it’s hands. He hissed, following the insistent tugging and pressing. 

 

Doors opened in front of him, and while he knew that the occupants of the castle knew about him being here, there was nothing he could muster to just stop moving. Beezer whirred in his headset, it’s fake and robotic voice clucking away and telling him to,  _ ‘Stop! Take a U-turn in the next negative five steps!’ _ . But it was like there was a lasso wrapped around his torso and arms, drawing him away from where he needed to go. 

 

Until Beezer went quiet, and whispered a  _ ‘Continue where you’re going’ _ . Lance knew something was wrong then, because the droid hadn’t stopped it’s incessant shouting since he’d taken the first wrong step.

 

Placing a hand on one of the clean, pristine, dusty walls, a breath shuddered in his ribcage. He’d practically been running through the castleship, Altean colors and lights whirling by in a symphony of silence and neon. He rasped, in and out, and continued on. Continued running, continued his trail of instinct. 

 

His head pounded, the voice a mash of,  _ MyPaldinFindMeFindMeMyPaladin,  _ while his lungs started to scream for air, because now he was sprinting. Now his armored feet slammed onto the clean floors, echoing throughout the hallway in a cacophony of hysteria and Want, his heart pulling up and rearing into his mouth, pulsing to escape through his rib cages because he  _ was not fast enough.  _

 

But then he was, and everything slowed. Like a glacier cutting through ice, time halted and the voice in his head quieted, a feeling of smugness crashing over him like a wave.

 

“HEY! What are you doing there?” A voice, not his, yelled out from behind him, tinged with panic. 

 

Lance did not hear it though, because in front of him stood large hangar doors reaching into the ceiling with the grasp of legends untold.

 

“Get away from that!” 

 

He reached forward, to touch the beckoning doors. His gut tugged him forward. 

 

“Stop!” 

 

Lance put his hand on the door, the castle pulsed.

 

_ My Paladin. _

 

The blue paladin’s spirit was torn from his body. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is your name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah this chapter is kind of... weird. To be warned, I'm writing this randomly because I Do Not Have A Plan. This chapter involves a lot of mind-confusion and my own interpretation of the Astral Plane. The story is going to change as well- from what I can tell it won't have the same feeling as the beginning of the story does. But if you hang in with me, maybe you'll like the outcome. 
> 
> Oh, and one more thing. Leave a comment or something, so that I know I've not completely flopped my whole life <3\. Oh, and pop a visit by my Tumblr. Don't know how that thing works, but I'm posting chapter updates there as well as here. Hope that brings some new people in. :shrug:

Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything. Coated in a sheen of purple and blue, cloaked with stars under and above, the spirit of the blue paladin floated, cursed to never land in a state of mind such as this. The Astral Plane was a province one was cursed to forever wander when entered, never to escape truly when left. They say, in some cultures around the galaxy, that a part of your mind never truly awakens.

 

Lance had walked right into the lion’s den of the Astral Plane. Dragged against his mind and instinct by a whisper more powerful than the will of iron, the blue paladin was brought to one of the deepest and most natural areas of the Plane. Unsure and feeling… oddly enough whole, Lance’s eyes fluttered open. 

 

There was a gap in his memory, the last few hours a dark blank piece of paper in his mind. He didn’t remember getting into the castle ship. He didn’t remember pristine doors that stood taller than him. He only knew that Nyma and Rolo had planned to sneak the blue lion out from under the paladin’s nose in the next few quintants. 

 

So where was he then, if not with them?

 

_ You are here. You are not there. _

 

A voice whispered, the world around him molding into a blue at the new arrival. Lance turned, feet on the ground. Wasn’t he floating a few moments ago? How was he standing now? He blinked, and the world around his changed from a galaxy to the top of a planet his eyes had never set their sights on before. A mountain, high enough to see the curvature of the world on the horizon, snow flicking down in a hazy sprinkle, ice leaping, hardened over banks of snow that reached Lance’s waist surrounded him. But his feet weren’t on the ground now, they floated nearly an inch above the snow. Nothing seemed physical. 

 

If he had to put it into words, all of it was mental.

 

“What is this?” He croaked, voice quiet under the blanket of surrounding ice. Silence greeted him.

 

_ Everywhere. Nowhere.  _ The voice hissed, sounding from behind him. Why did it keep moving? Why was everything moving? Why was it always behind him? 

 

_ You must look backward and forward, paladin. Look to your side, and you will see alternatives. Look up, and you will see the eyes of your soul. Now look forward. _

 

Lance looked forward.

 

_-_

 

_ “Hunk! Put it down!” A voice screamed, the tinges of it rough and hardy. It sounded like Lance’s but it didn’t. Something about it was off, a smooth accent he had never heard before coating it like oil on a blade.  _

 

_ “She didn’t do it!” He wailed again, voice cracking in the middle at an unseen enemy. Unless Hunk was the enemy. _

 

_ Why would Hunk be the enemy? _

 

_ “How do you know that?” Someone’s voice yelled back, fever and delusion molding it into a hysterical scream. They weren’t a a paladin right now- they were a person. A person driven by their own feelings. He could hear someone crying as well, hiccups interrupting them every so often.   _

 

_ “Please!” someone else pleaded. “Team Punk right? Please!”  _

 

_ “Hunk put it DOWN!”  _

 

_ “She did it! SHE KILLED HER!” The second voice yelled again, and Lance heard the crying get louder, could hear himself bellowing incoherent noises.  _

 

_ “Stop it!” The pleader begged, terror coating them. “Stop it!”  _

 

_ “Hunk!”  _

 

_ “I didn’t do it!” _

 

_ _-_ _

 

Lance gasped, winding over and clutching his head. They weren’t his memories. None of that had ever happened to him. He inhaled and exhaled, a pressure building down in his stomach and threatening to rise. It would be interesting to see if a person could puke as an astral projection. 

 

_ Looking forward is only the beginning. Tell me, what do you see in the slippage, Lance?  _ The voice questioned this time, interested. But he could remember now. This was the one that had drawn him to the blue lion’s hangar and dropped him in here. It was the reason he couldn’t understand anything. They… were not his ally.

 

“What,” he croaked, clutching his stomach and curling inward, “do you mean by that?” 

 

_ You must be strong to already have such a strong connection to the Astral Plane. Not many see their first slippage so clearly. But yet, there is no sight. Maybe you should try opening your eyes, my paladin. _

 

Lance looked upward this time, but nothing happened. The scenery had changed again, however. But there was no sign of the eyes of his soul.

 

He was situated in front of the gaping mouth of a cavern, large enough to house a giant. The supreme instinct to go into the dangerous cave rode the wind around him, pushing him forward as if he had no choice. Taking a stuttering step into it’s maw, the sentient being in his head purred urging him to take more steps. 

 

_ You, Lance, are in a place called the Astral Plane.  _

 

Hadn’t he heard of that before? On the whispers of Zarkon witch’s experiments? Weren’t they working on projecting?

 

_ Even beings such as myself do not know the true extent of it, and in the past time my pride and I have been considered guides of this existence. Yet we know more than any being alive. Nearly all the futures and pasts and possibilities are nestled within us. But we never interfere. Do you know why? _

 

The walls in the cave slowly started to morph as his feet carried him deeper inside. They changed from ice covered stone, to patchwork of snow and frost atop a dusty clay, to only the dusty clay. Along the way, markings began to appear on the wall, paintings and carvings of a blue lion coating them in a collage of worshipped artwork. Lance stopped, and turned around, only to not be able to see the blistering ice behind him. Instead, he was standing at the entrance of a rock tunnel, a bright sun blazing down onto a simmering desert. There was… five people behind him as well. 

 

They were the paladins and him, he realized with a choked gasp. 

 

_ Because our interference changes everything Lance. There are few futures where we interfere. _

 

They group walked past him, all of them staring in awe at the paintings. They was a few words exchanged and then he- the different Lance, the one who looked softer and less hardened- placed a hand on one of the walls. Their (his?) tan fingers drifted across the carving there, and it lit up in a light blue. Aside from him, the large yellow paladin moved.

 

_ “They’ve never done that before.”  _  The red paladin said, and Lance watched as they all fell through the ground. 

 

_ And even fewer of those futures, are good.  _

 

_ However, Lance. We cannot see the futures path once we meddle. We are merely as blind as the rest of you. _

 

_ _-_ _

 

_ “Hunk! My buddy my pal! How’s Shay?” _

 

_ “Dead. _

 

_ “And I know who killed her.” _

 

_ … _

 

_ “Please! I didn’t do it! I don’t know who did it! _

 

_ “Please!” _

 

_ _-_ _

 

_ The beauty of the Astral Plane is that you can see all, eventually. Every past, every future. But you can only go down one path, Lance. And although you can see the good and the bad, you will not be told how to find it. _

 

_ I will not tell you how to find it. _

 

Lance groaned, his head in his hands at the… what had they called it? Slippage? When he looked up, the scene had changed, and now he was staring at the group of five from where they had fallen. 

 

But instead of one blue lion, there was two. 

 

_ Here you see all. _

 

_-_

 

_ “What was it like?” Lance asked, curious at what they would respond with.   _

 

_ “It was beautiful, Lance.” Allura whispered, tears in her eyes at the old remains of her people, planet, and culture forgotten over the span of ten-thousand decaphoebs.  _

 

_ “It was dark, Lance.” Shiro murmured, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched inward to make himself smaller in the face of a buried enemy. _

 

_ “I once heard that it helps to talk about it all. But y’know… if it hurts too much you don’t have to.” _

 

_ Allura smiled, the first tear tracing a path down her cheek as there was someone to share her- no their story with. _

 

_ Shiro shuddered, the first sob racking his body as he finally found someone to talk to about his first owner, his fights, their impacts. _

 

_ “I will tell you about Altea,” the princess breathed with small sniffles. “But are you sure?” _

 

_ “The gladiator ring wasn’t pretty,” the Champion whispered between choked cries, “Are you sure?” _

_ _-_ _

 

The second one tilted it’s head, the yellow, glowing eyes casting light only he could see. It didn’t reflect on the cave they were in, and Lance paid no heed to his doppleganger as he went and walked up to the particle barrier surrounding the metal lion. 

 

The second lion was not metal, however. It was tall enough to stand at Lance’s shoulder, and pale, blue-grey fur wrapped around its body. The mane that surrounded it’s neck was blue, the same color as the lion ship. Lance had a feeling the metal lion was not like this one at all- maybe they had the same thoughts, but he felt that he was seeing a much deeper level here. 

 

_ Here you see nothing.  _

 

Lance stared. “What do you mean?” he cried, head beating in tandem with his heart. People he didn’t know. People he didn’t care about were invading his mind. They said names that he didn’t know, they spoke of stories he hadn’t read, they whispered secrets that had never been told. 

 

And the lion. Grinned.

 

_ _-_ _

 

_ “Lance, Keith, split it up.” _

 

_ “He started it! He threw something at me and insulted my knife!” _

 

_ “Really, Mullet? You’re the one who decided to attack my skin-care routine!” _

 

_ “Because it’s stupid! Why do you need all of those… Whatever they are?”  _

 

_ “It helps me! Back off!”  _

 

_ “Keith! Lance!” _

 

_-_

 

_ Maybe what you’re seeing could’ve happened.  _

 

Lance shook his head, looking at the lion and it’s smile. The feline got to it’s paws gracefully, taking slow steps forward until it was nearly nose to nose with him. It’s eyes blinded Lance. 

 

_ I cannot see what you are seeing paladin. Does that surprise you?  _

 

He shook his head and closed his eyes. 

 

_ It doesn’t surprise me. The paladins were always so hard to delve into. But they knew how to put a shield up. You don’t. Tell me, Lance. What is your full name? _

 

_ “ _ I don’t know.”

 

_ You don’t know? _

 

_ Tell me. What is your full. Name. _

 

“I. Don’t. Know.”

 

_ What is your full name, Lance?  _

 

“I don’t know. Stop.”

 

_ Tell me. _

 

_ _-_  _

 

_ There’s a beeping of the monitor, and Lance can see it all. His eyes, are open. But this time, there’s someone else in this with him. It’s no longer just him. _

 

_ He wondered who they are, until he stares at one hard enough and can piece together the resemblance. The man has his nose. The woman, his eyes. The man and woman their skin tone. He is them, but they are not him.  _

 

_ But there is another presence. Blue and powerful, they- no, she watches. _

 

_ Something wails, and the woman and man laugh. Lance started to cry. _

 

_ A door cracked open, and two sets of eyes peered into the room. “Mama,” a girl called in. “Is it done yet?”  _

 

_ The woman on the pale sheets clutched the bundle at her breast closer and smiled. Lance could tell she was tired just standing where he was. With that in mind, he stepped closer and let the scene play out around him.  _

 

_ Another woman fully opened the door, and two children rushed in. One was a girl, probably around 5 or 6 phoebs, and the other was younger. Yet they both held a happy and excited curiosity. They scrambled closer, trying to peep looks at what the woman was holding.  _

 

_ “Veronica, Marcos. Come meet your brother.”  _

 

_ Lance walked forward as well, staring down at the child in her arms.  _

 

_ He blinked.  _

 

_ The two siblings gasped, pushing themselves onto the bed and looking down. Veronica obviously wanted to touch him, but instead held herself back with her fingers intertwined on her chest. “What’s his name?”  _

 

_ The man in the room laughed, crowding around the bed and looking down at them all. His family.  _

 

_ Lance’s family.  _

 

_ “His name is,  _

 

_ “Lance Alejandro Sanchez-McClain.” _

 

_-_

 

_ A strong name. I wonder, how did you remember it was yours?  When you were taken from your mother’s arms?  _

 

Lance glared at the lion, taking a step away from her. Behind him, the cavern opened up as the lion ship tore through the ceiling, and his spirit didn’t even flicker as the rocks fell into the cavern. “Who were they?” he knew, of course who they were. But when you don’t know who your family is for your whole life, any idea of a blood relative is one that seems fake and unreal. 

 

The blue lion raised a shoulder in a shrug, yellow eyes narrowed onto him.  _ You tell me, child. How did they speak to you? Of you?  _

 

There was a beat of silence, and Lance looked away as the scene around them shifted onto the surface of another planet. On the grassy meadow they stood on, there was the Altean castle ship, glittering under the harsh sun. He might’ve thought the planet to be beautiful, had they he not been dragged here against his will. 

 

“I don’t have a family,” he whispered, stumbling away from her. “I don’t have a family.”

 

_ Don’t you, Lance? Then who were they? Why are they so deeply intertwined with you?  _

 

“They were nobody. I don’t know them.”

 

_ Truly? _

 

“They were nobody important to me. I don’t know them, just as I do not know you,” Lance growled, standing up, straightening, his projection in the Astral Plane flickering just so. “You are no one to me, just like them.” 

 

The blue lion snarled back at him, her tail lashing.  _ You do not know of what you’re talking about, paladin. We are connected.  _

 

“No. I can’t be connected to you. Do you know why?” Lance said, staring up at her. He breathed in once, stepping forward. The body he projected flickered once more, the bond holding him to this plane being forcefully severed. It felt like a tearing in his chest, but there wasn’t any going back now. He wouldn’t be bonded to her, not if he had any say in the matter. 

 

The lion stared at him, tilting her head. Lance could still feel her presence in his head, and it bothered him how unbothered she was. 

 

_ Why?  _ She questioned him, her blue tail lashing behind her.  _ Why not? _

 

“Because I’m no paladin. Not me. Find someone else for your little game,” Lance spat, gesturing at the landscape around them. “Where’s my choice in this? Why force the hand of someone- a stranger- when you could find someone else? I don’t want this. I don’t want to fight a war that’s not my own.” 

 

The lion had been quiet, but at his last sentence she rose to her full height. Baring her teeth, lips pulled back into a dangerous snarl, her yellow eyes narrowed into glowing slits, she looked like a primal feline come to tear him into shreds of Lance-flavored ribbons.  _ Is it not your fight? _ She roared into his head, the area around them fracturing into different shards of glass.

 

They all reflected the duo, a contrast of animal and human, darkened by the quickening lack of light in the show of quaking silver.  _ Is it not your fight? The damned of the universe? _ Her voice reverberated, the fractures sealing shut in a cocoon around them, darker than the darkest night. 

 

_ Is it not their battle against their tormentors? The Galra Empire will crush all you know, Lance. You cannot just sit in your planet and trade away information as if they are a deck of cards to be played when you could be so much more! You believe yourself to fight this battle, but in truth you are nothing where you are now. Yet you could be so much more! _

 

Lance stared at her and the thousands of yellow eyes in his prison of glass. His form flickered again, pulling away. Pulling away from her. 

 

“It is not my war. It is not my duty to be a paladin.” 

 

The lion shook her head.  _ It is. It will always be your duty. In this life or the next, the place of blue paladin will be yours. It will be ours, whether you chose it or not. Why do you resist?  _

 

Around them the world imploded, until he was staring at the Urithu galaxy. There sat Crixon, surrounded by it’s brethren. The peaceful expanse of space stood, until one second there was flashes of purple cruising into the area. 

 

_ Soon they will not be so lenient with how they treat your home. _

 

Lance saw the beginning of the end. Around them, ion cannons powered to life, zeroed in on the planet. He saw ships from his home eject into space, drawn into Galra battle cruisers. None got away, and everyone else on the planet would have been left to fend for themselves. The ion cannons fired, and Lance stayed quiet.

 

It could almost be indescribable, watching as his home exploded from the inside, white hot fissures cracking open the surface until it burst out into space. There was no fire, there was merely the separation and silence of quintessence burning into a trading hub and tearing it apart as if it was a piece of paper. 

 

_ Soon, worse will happen to your planet. And if not for Voltron, who would stop it? _

 

“I have no place in Voltron,” Lance spat finally, after a few moments of the hard silence one got when they were thinking of words that were not coming to mind. “I have no place with you.

The world around them rocked, once, twice, and there was an overwhelming feeling of grim acceptance quaking from the lion. 

 

_ You will,  _ she whispered, grimly, as the glass around them fractured and split like butterflies, before tearing away and leaving Lance alone. 

 

Until he was yanked backward, and fell into his own body again.

 

\---------

 

His eyes snapped open behind a blue, see-through door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, thought Lance, I most certainly did not.

Allura sat at the head of the table, her head cradled in her hands, while the paladins sat around it in varying states of disbelief. The only one missing was Coran, as he was keeping watch of the intruder who had snuck into the impenetrable -almost impenetrable she supposed now- castle. 

Hunk was crunching away at green cookies he had baked in a short time. The yellow paladin was rather loud in this silence, which was a very annoying thing in this current situation.

She really wasn’t quite sure how to react to an intruder. They hadn’t been able to get the armor completely off the man, and the only reason he was in one of their pods was so it could be easier to keep an eye on him. There was also no weapons on his body. Some part of her was screaming in disbelief more than anything, while the other part was surprisingly numb considering the very, very dire situation. 

Why didn’t he have any weapons? Did he think them to be weak? Did everyone in the galaxy think Voltron was weak?

“Princess?” that was Shiro, she understood. Galra champion, hero, black paladin. One of the humans she was proud of- one that mostly knew what they were doing and who they were fighting against. But his arm still sent shivers down her spine. The stench of corrupted quintessence rolled off of it in waves.

Allura waved her hand, nonverbally telling him to speak while she continued to massage her eyebrow with the other. 

There was an air in the room, the sort of stifling tenseness one gets when there’s no words to be found but everything to be said. Allura would put it on Hunk to be able to dispel this feeling, except the paladin was munching on one of the cookies with the excuse he was ‘stress eating’. Alteans, she remembered, had none of these qualms of eating their emotions. Oh, how she missed her people.

Shiro coughed, and Allura looked up at him blearily. 

“What are we going to do about the new comer?” the black paladin asked her, leaning forward with his back straight like a child who was learning their first letters. Interested, looking at her as if she was going to preach the answers of the universe. 

But the silver haired altean had no exact clue of what to do, because there was two very, very large and confounding problems afoot. 

The first was this : some stranger had managed to sneak aboard their ship, one no race apart from altean should be able to get on or near when it was up and running with it’s defences on and when not invited. This, of course, was a problem because because it either meant technology had advanced to catch up with the tech that was one of the few things keeping them ahead of the galrans, or that their newcomer had some sort of altean blood. \

Naturally, if they had altean blood in them a little quintessence exposure should do the trick. Still, if an altean had snuck aboard then this was a confounding circumstance.

The second problem was much more of a problem problem. It was such a problem that it was the sort of hindrance that looked you dead in the eye and you assumed, in that moment you had lost all control and whatever higher deity was definitely laughing at your misfortune. For it was this : the hangar of the blue lion had opened. For this stranger, wearing gear that they could not recognize, one of the super weapons in the universe had decided it was theirs. The princess was not as excited as she should be with the abrupt appearance of the blue paladin. In fact, one could say she was mad. 

And Allura, as one does when something does not go according to a plan that wasn’t even made, sat everyone down at the table after their visitor had passed out. It was a meeting of sorts, if someone counted a meeting as a silent situation in which no one had any idea what to do. 

“I imagine we are going to have to wait,” the princess said in reply to Shiro’s earlier question, looking back down at the table. 

Hunk continued to eat his feelings out in cookies.

\---------

When Lance opened his eyes behind blue glass, there was a hissing in his ear and the remnants of, ‘You will,’ floating around in his head. Unsurprisingly, there was also a pressure that was building in the back of it that felt like a headache but was decidedly not.

Joy, that lion. All grim tidings and murderous intent.

In front of him, the pod slid open. Bonelessly, Lance slid to the ground and thought of what the lion had shown him. He decided to ignore most of it and focus on the task at hand. Which was, after a few seconds of self-analysis, figure out where precisely he was and how to escape it. 

“You’re awake now, aren’t you?” a voice which didn’t have any sort of accent he could place said chipperly. “I’m rather surprised you’re awake- I’d recognize the sign of absolute death anywhere. Well, I’m assuming you were dead. Maybe. See- that’s the curious little thing isn’t it? I’ve seen quite a few alteans play dead in my time, usually when they were faced with great beasts like the flubberdubs or the webste-”

“Can you shut up?” Lance croaked, finding that his voice was sore and raspy. 

Before him, he heard the sound of footsteps and an altean he had never seen before crouching in front of him. 

“Why, you’re all out of sorts aren’t you? Maybe you did really need to go into the pod. Sad, it wouldn’t have worked while you still had all that gear on.”

“Where am I?” Lance asked while trying to push himself off the ground he was splayed out on, but since his exertion was so great it came out more life ‘wherammei’. Sadly, that was not precisely what he wanted to say, and since the altean in front of him was not well versed in slurring of languages he wasn’t the most fluent in, there came a problem of them not being able to understand each other. Also, Lance’s body flopped back down.

“I’m sorry, did you just speak Galran?” 

No, Lance thought, I most certainly did not. 

He said, out loud, “Possibly.” 

“Well it didn’t sound like any Galran I know.” 

“Then I didn’t.” 

The orange-haired altean looked as if this answer was not precisely the one he wanted to hear. But he stood, looking down on the still armored figure laying on the floor in front of him. “By any chance, you are not with the Galra empire are you?”

“No,” Lance groaned, pushing himself up again. Thankfully, since the word was so short, it did not slur. And thankfully, he also managed to support his back against the cryopod he was able to sit on the floor. “Are you?”

“Why, no, of course not. In fact, me and the princess are fighting against them. Which is why it would be such a shame if you were to be working with them.” 

“Nice,” Lance said, not very encouragingly as he pushed himself even farther off the ground. Right now, he found one syllable words to be favorite ones. They didn’t correlate with him falling down.

“Well, if you aren’t speaking Galran and are not with their empire, what are you doing on our ship?” 

“Work,” Lance replied, in answer to every question the orange haired altean could throw at him. 

Said altean nodded, as if this made perfect sense. “Yes, well, my name is Coran and I’m afraid your going to have to be moved now.” 

Lance swore, and sunk back to the ground. What he said was not a very nice one or two syllable word. 

Coran looked rather happy to ignore the filthy language that had spewed out of Lance’s mouth, and clapped his hands. “Well, I do imagine the princess would want to meet you now that you’re awake. Let’s go.”

\---------

Halfway across the universe, nestled in a bunker only able to be found through a select series of code, Matt Holt sat in front of a bright green computer screen. His eyes, he found, worked well now and did not give him migraine strain from staring at fluorescent lights for a long period of time. Katie, he understood, would be very jealous of this development and proceed to force herself to go through laser eye surgery herself. 

Clicking through the items on his screen, Matt was looking at a line of galran code he was decrypting when a message popped up on the side of his screen. Deciding that he probably wouldn’t be able to decrypt this in less than five minutes, Matt clicked onto the message and read it.

He read it once, twice, thrice, then groaned. Loudly. 

“Damn you Lance,” he said to the empty bunker he was in, looking forlornly to the piece of code. Raising a finger, he shut it all down and pushed himself away from the table. This was not going according to his ten year plan. 

Olia had sent out a message, telling all of her higher ups that Lance, Blue, international smuggler, was officially going after Voltron. As one does when they’re bored, apparently. 

Turning around, Matt looked at everything he would need to fit in a rucksack, groaned again, then got to work. Truthfully, he was not looking forward to jumping to the Urithu galaxy anytime soon.  
\---------

Lance really, really did not like Coran. 

Well, that was a lie. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances than things would have been fine. The altean hadn’t probed him to take off his helmet, and Lance was still breathing behind his mask just fine. There wasn’t any notifications or talking from Nyma and Rolo, which worried him on some level. They were okay right?

And his ship was still in one piece, right?

A flash of light took over his vision, and there was a picture of his ship sitting right next to wherever his body was. Except, he was much taller than usual and when he looked down as far as possible he had paws and- oh. It was the lion. A laugh reverberated in his head. 

Lance sighed, the voice muffled by his helm.Quiznaking Voltron/ The altean kept walking, not paying attention the the straggler who was using the walls as support beams to follow him. This was not a… wanted circumstance. 

Staying quiet, they took another turn and Lance could hear the tail end of a few words. He wasn’t able to understand them completely, but they were voices. That surely meant they were close to the princess Coran was talking about earlier. Well, he supposed he would be meeting his maker soon. 

A laugh rumbled in the back of his head and Lance glared at the wall in distaste. 

“We’re almost there,” Coran said brightly in front of him, eyes crinkling upward as a small smile was placed upon his face. “I’m sure the princess will want to know what type of work brought you here. 

They turned into the dining room. 

Here, Lance would later lament, was where his life changed. For the better or worse, he wouldn’t be able to say until a long time after.

When he and Coran entered the dining room, with it’s machines on one side of the wall and absolutely nothing on the other. He noted all of the paladins situated by the table, with the silver haired princess at the front. It took a small amount of time for the first on to notice them, the large yellow paladin who was shoveling cookies into his mouth at an impressively fast rate. When he noticed, there was a sharp elbow jab he gave to Kayti, who then looked up. Her mouth fell open, and from there everyone seemed to notice him.

For one of the few times in his life, Lance was not happy with the attention that had been placed upon him.

An awkward silence reigned over the room, until Coran stepped forward and twinged his moustache. “Our guest,” he began, clapping his gloved hands in front of him, “is awake.”

The red paladin was the first to move, activating his bayard with a flash. The sword grew from nothing, while Lance shifted awkwardly to stare at it. “Coran,” the red paladin growled, staring at the altean in disbelief before his eyes focused on Lance. “What is he doing here?”

“Why, he was awake! And I do believe you all told me to bring him here when he was awake.”

Lance, from behind his helm, stuck his tongue out at the red paladin. Sadly, with the tinted glass, it wasn’t seen. 

The red paladin frowned, a small little pout forming on his face before his bayard disappeared and he sat down. The black paladin reached over and kept a hand on red’s shoulder and watched everything with a critical gaze. Lance tried not to shrink into himself under that gaze. He’s seen recordings of the arena. 

At the head of the table, the princess moved so she could glare at him but see better. “Paladins,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Out.”

The only one to budge was the yellow one, who stopped as soon as he saw no one else moving. 

Allura sighed, looking at them all with barely concealed irritation. Suddenly, Lance understood that this group of people was not nearly as held together as he believed they were. Hadn’t they already defeated Sendak once? How was this the defenders of the universe?

That includes you Lance, came unbidden to his head, but he wasn’t sure if it was his own thoughts or the blue lion’s. 

“I expect you all to be quiet then,” the princess hissed, inhaling loudly then staring down Lance. 

He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting that one on one talk with Kayti anytime soon. 

“I’m sure you know of who we are,” the princess began. “Either from stories of us that have circulated around the universe or Coran telling you. What you must know then, is that we aren’t mean or evil people, and we will let you go. As long as you tell of some things of course.”

Lance was silent behind his mask, something he noticed would probably be a recurring thing with Voltron. He wondered if he should maybe reply when Allura took his silence as a reason to continue. That answered that. 

“We will need to know how precisely you got onto our ship. We will also need to know why the blue lion reacted so strongly to your presence.”

There was an awkward silence while Lance reached up and turned on his voice modifier, while also switching his comms on. Hopefully Nyma or Rolo would see he was back online and would do something about it. 

“EMP.” Lance said, figuring he wouldn’t be able to lie his way out of this situation. It was possible the altean was an alchemist, and while that in itself wasn’t terrifying it was the mind-wrenching powers that came along with it. Maybe she would know when he was lying, maybe she wouldn’t. 

“An EMP,” Kayti asked from where she was seated, scooting forward curiously and shoving her glasses up her nose. Lance thought she resembled when Beezer found something shiny in the dirt. “And you came in through an airlock, right? So that means you shut it down and then came in. How did you manage to turn off the anti-grav from inside? When me and Hunk were trappe-”

“Pidge that’s enough.” Allura interrupted the girl, glaring at the green paladin for a while before returning her now cool and collected gaze back to Lance. “So you used an EMP to board our ship. How did you know where to go?”

Lance didn’t know how precisely Beezer knew- something, Nyma would tell him, about the droid knowing where the hangars in the ship were after watching the lions depart from them and using a very specific method of guessing the general direction of where to go. “The lion told me where to go.”

That, apparently, was not the right answer, as it resulted in the princess pressing her hands tighter down on the table and glaring at him. “What do you mean, the lion told you where to go? I am sure the blue lion, or any lion for that matter, would not choose someone who would sneak aboard this ship and it is just not possible. The lions cannot speak to their paladins.”

She caught herself, and gave a polite cough. At the bottom of his helm, a notification from Nyma popped up. 

This was not an ideal situation. 

Blue rumbled in the back of his head, almost as if she was agreeing with him on the unsatisfactoriness in this moment. At least they agreed on something.

The yellow paladin looked positively confused, and he drew Lance’s attention when he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again before speaking and placing his cookies down on the table gently. “Princess, since the others and I have been getting closer to the lions, they have been exchanging words with us. Why wouldn’t it be, uh, possible?” Along the way his voice seemed to taper off, stuttering through his last words as everyone turned his attention to him.

At the head of the table, Allura glowered. “The lions cannot speak. There has been no record of it done before. At most, the old paladins of Voltron cou- no. It’s impossible, I’m afraid. Hunk, no more off topic inputs.”

Hunk, frowning, and muttered something Lance couldn’t hear. From beside the large paladin, Kayti hit him in the side of his stomach.

Obviously, the paladins were very professional when it came to interrogations. 

His helmet bleeped again, this time from Rolo. An insistent red little circle that flashed three times before disappearing. The messages felt like they were going to keep coming until he responded and confirmed that he wasn’t dead in space. Sadly, while being questioned by absolutely terrible detectives, it would be impossible to call for a phone break and some privacy. Frowning from behind his mask, Lance swore that he would answer his partner’s messages eventually. 

He raised a hand, as if to ask a question, but instead waved it slowly at them. His voice came out garbled behind the glass visor obscuring his face, but they seemed to get the memo well enough. The rainbow of paladins looked at him in confusion, whilst the princess fumed in the background at his casual interruption of an awkward silence.

“Yeah, I have to get back soon,” Lance said, matter-of-factly. “So we’re gonna have to resolve this soon.”

Another, longer silence. 

“Coran, put him in one of the holding cells. And remove his gear.” The white haired princess responded, sniffing daintily as Lance raised his hands so the old advisor could reach him. Life, it appeared, would not be going his way anytime soon if he continued to annoy powerful people who were not exactly satisfied with how he had broken into their ship. There could be something said about how quickly his life had gone downhill if the approaching altean with the ridiculous, curled, orange mustache was involved in restraining him.

Lance let himself be led down hallways that he would never remember how to maneuver. All the while, a blue lion laughed in his head.

\-------

He was sitting in his cell with his feet propped against the walls a few quintants later, when the alarm started to blare bright red lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahahh what am i doing? do i know? nope. do you know? hopefully not. or else that would be rather creepy. mind reader. >:(4
> 
>  
> 
> AND NO PROOF READING WE DIE LIKE stupid people, because proof reading is good for the soul and not making yourself (myself?) appear stupid :)
> 
> Oh, and I'm thinking of making Lance an altean in this because  
> 1.) I love altean lance, and the new season made me mad at how it was portrayed because it wasn'T SUPPOSED TO GO LIKE THAT  
> 2.) It could make everything easier to tie in  
> 3.) preti marc go ble  
> 4.) Allura deserves an altean friend that isn't lotion, because l'oreal sucks :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've started another series I actually might plan to continue. I'm terrible, end me now please. This is bad, I need to stop but I can't so here we go. Tags will update over time, and the romantic relationship is undecided so one word....
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> yeet


End file.
